


The Mother of Death Row

by cmk418



Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-14
Updated: 2006-10-14
Packaged: 2017-10-26 21:46:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/288252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmk418/pseuds/cmk418
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shirley's ghost pays a visit to the inmates on death row.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mother of Death Row

It was nearing midnight, long after lights out, as if that meant anything to the inhabitants of death row. "Other than one day closer to their execution, of course," thought Shirley Bellinger. This was her favorite time. Time to check on her boys, to whisper words of comfort in their ears, to show her appreciation to them. The men here treated her better than most of the ones she knew on the outside. Maybe it was because there was a layer of bars which separated them from her, but all of them, Richie, Nat, Moses, Vern, young Timmy, and even Simon, treated her with respect and even a bit of reverence. These cons, these rough and brutal men, became as sweet as little boys in her presence. The only exception during her time in Oz was Officer LoPresti, but in her experience, if you gave a man some authority, he thought he owned you.

She walked through the corridor. Timmy was first. She knew him the longest. She remembered that he brought her a tube of lipstick right before her execution. Timmy was very thoughtful about things like that. He would often bring her small gifts, with stunning regularity that she used to joke he was a one-man postal service. Yes, the boy was always able to deliver.

She looked at him now. He seemed more troubled than usual. There was something different in his eyes.

“You’re late tonight, Shirley.”

His voice had also changed. It was subtle, but she noticed. “Now, darlin’, when you speak to me in that tone, you remind me of my ex-father-in-law. Keep that up and I won’t be seeing you again.”

The voice changed now to a whisper. “Help me.”

Shirley reached out and covered his right hand with her left. “It’ll be okay. I just need you to stand still for a minute. Can you do that?”

Timmy nodded and Shirley stepped into him, dissolving as she momentarily merged her spirit with his.

Watching from across the way, Jaz Hoyt saw Timmy Kirk sway backwards, forwards, backwards, and then finally lurch forward with such force, as Shirley was once again visible in front of him.

Shirley touched Timmy’s forehead. “Better now?”

He nodded. “Thank you, Shirley.”

Shirley looked him straight in the eye as she spoke. She kept her voice low. “I wish I could help you have peace all of the time. But you know, as well as I, that evil runs rampant in the daylight hours in this place. We are powerless in its grasp. The only hope you have is that death will come calling soon enough.”

Shirley brushed an airy kiss on Timmy’s forehead, then stepped backward through the bars and out into the corridor. She turned and headed toward her second stop, Jaz Hoyt.

Jaz delighted and frightened her. He was like nobody she’d ever met before and probably never would again. The artwork covering most of his body fascinated her. Normally, she would be the one telling stories to the boys, but with Jaz, she just wanted to sit and listen.

He was in a foul mood when she reached him. “Don’t know why you spend so much time with that fuck, Kirk.”

“Because it would be impolite to ignore him,” she replied, matter-of-factly.

“You’re quite a lady.” Shirley knew there was no sarcasm behind his words. It was a compliment; one of the few Jaz gave out.

“Thank you, kind sir.” Shirley ran a hand up his arm. “Now where did we leave off?” She began tracing the patterns from his shoulder down to his ribcage. Jaz couldn’t feel her fingers against his skin but he definitely enjoyed watching her touch him. She stopped. “Here.”

Jaz closed his eyes. “That one was from a bike trip through Arizona. Crazy Indian fella did it for me.”

“I thought the crazy Indian did the one on your left shoulder,” came the voice from the cell across the way.

“Shut up, Keller. That was from a shaman in New Mexico. This is my time with Shirley so put a sock in it.”

“Hey!” yelled a voice from the next cell.

“Jesus. Now, look what you did,” yelled Keller.

“Will you dinks shut the fuck up? Lights out don’t mean start your yapping. Do I make myself clear?” The hack on night shift didn’t bother to leave his post. He waited to see if it would quiet down. It did.

While the commotion subsided, Shirley asked Jaz, “What are the Indians like? In all my years, I never saw one. Do you suppose it’s too late now? I don’t suppose they’d take kindly to a white woman haunting their reservation.”

“Best not try it, Shirley. Some of them tribes can get very superstitious. This pattern here,” he said, touching his ribcage where she had earlier, “means protection against evil spirits.”

“So I must not be an evil spirit then.”

“Guess not.”

“Well, that’s a wonderful thing to hear.” She leaned toward him and kissed him. Jaz thought he felt his lips grow warm for just an instant, then she was gone.

Shirley stood in the corridor outside the third cell as she watched the cell’s occupant carry on a conversation. After a moment, he sensed her presence.

“Hello, Shirley,” he said. His voice was deep. It always threw her to hear it. She remembered the young man from her second stint in Oswald. He used to bring the lunch cart sometimes. He always seemed so innocent. But times and people have a way of changing. Especially in this place.

“Hello, Jericho,” she whispered. She would have liked to have said that she liked Jericho, but that wasn’t exactly the case. She understood him. She understood Cyril’s need for him, the need to be protected. She herself had a protector when she was growing up, just like him. One part of her hid away and another rushed to the surface, and the one that came forward knew everything and could handle anything.

Shirley stepped into the cell. Cyril was lying on his bed, watching her. She sat down on the edge of the bed beside him.

“Did anyone ever tell you, you’re a beautiful woman?” he asked.

She smiled. “Well, it is something that a girl likes to be reminded of, no matter how dead she is.”

“Cyril doesn’t notice, but I do. There are a lot of things that Cyril doesn’t notice, appetites that he’s suppressed. The soft feel of a woman’s hair, the taste of her lips, the smell of her... sweat, the sight of her naked body, and the sound of her calling his name. He doesn’t realize that he misses these things, but he does.”

“You mean, you do.”

He smiled. “Lady in white,” he said. Only this time it was Cyril’s voice.

“That’s right, sweetheart, that’s right.” She leaned down toward him, close enough to whisper one word into his ear. The word was long, drawn out, almost like a purr. “Cy-rillll.”  
Cyril closed his eyes and Shirley backed away. It was Jericho’s voice that responded, “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” she whispered, ruffling Cyril’s hair before moving off toward her final destination.

Walking into her old cell was something that Shirley still hadn’t gotten used to. Especially since there was no longer a trace of her there.

“I thought you’d never get here,” said Chris as he paced the cell.

He didn’t say anything more. Shirley knew something was wrong. Usually Chris would try to seduce her the moment she came in, so this silence and constant movement of his was a bit unsettling. The answer came to her as she recalled a recent conversation with Chris.

“Your man. He got his parole.”

Chris nodded. “In a few days, he’ll be out in the world. Forgetting about this place, about me.”

Shirley went to him then, stepping in front of him. He could have stepped through her, they both knew it, but, for the moment, Chris stood still.

“No, sugar, no,” she said in the same voice she used to soothe her daughter when she was upset. “You’re a part of this man. Just like he’s a part of you. You don’t think he’s up there right now, tossing and turning in his cell, worrying that you’re gonna forget about him. I’ll tell you now, you don’t forget the people who have done you kindness, not even when you’re no longer part of their world.”

“Kindness? Toby would be better off-“

Shirley interrupted. “You loved him, Christopher. That’s what he’ll remember. Out of all the darkness in this place that will pass away in time, he’ll be left with the memory that you loved him. Just like my daughter remembers that I love her.”

Shirley gave a little laugh. Chris looked down at her.

“What?”

“I just realized that’s I’m a better mother to you boys here than I was to my own sweet baby. I succeeded in death where I couldn’t in life.”

“Sounds like you’re ready to move on,” stated Keller, a little resigned.

Shirley shook her head. “Oh no, no, no, sugar. I’ve just figured out where I belong. This is my home, looking after you boys in your darkest moments.”

“Stay with me tonight.”

“I always do.”

Chris moved over to the bed and laid down. “Join me?”

Shirley laughed. She preferred being an anomaly, the only entity in this prison that Chris Keller could not seduce. She sat on the edge of the bed. “Tell me about your ex-wife.”

“Which one?”

“Bonnie.”

“Bonnie. Number two and number four. She’s the best one...”

As Chris continued with his story, Shirley watched him relax. She’d stay long past the moment when the words became softer and softer, watching him sleep, keeping him safe.

It was the least she could do for one of her boys.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the hardtime100 Flashfic Challenge #24 - Trick or Treat?


End file.
